


take me back to the night we met

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 11:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: Eight years, Serena's mind supplies through the fog that descends over it. Eight years since she last saw Bernie Wolfe; sitting on a hallway floor, smiling with tear filled eyes as she watched Serena walk away to meet her great niece.And out of the blue, here she stands.written for Berena Appreciation Week 2018 - Day 3: Break-up and Day 4: AU





	take me back to the night we met

**Author's Note:**

> _I had all and then most of you_   
>  _Some and now none of you_   
>  _Take me back to the night we met_

Affixing her name badge to her blazer with a grimace, Serena raises a hand to brush the short silver hairs back into place against the nape of her neck, turns the pendant at the hollow of her neck right way round. Surveys the ballroom crowded with similarly suited professionals chatting in groups over tea and nibbles.

Internally she sighs, even as she forces her lips into her most professional smile. The meet and greet portion of medical conferences is always the most tedious part. Even for a social butterfly like Serena, the interminable conversations with pompous, egotistical doctors of all stripes are deadly dull. Back in her consulting days, she would usually arrange for an “emergency” that kept her from the opening afternoon’s festivities at events such as this. Unfortunately as the CEO of Holby City Hospital, glad handing is part of the job description.

She makes her way across the ballroom, nodding politely to the familiar faces in the crowd, deftly avoiding others, dropping in and out of circles of conversation with murmured greetings and increasingly false-feeling smiles.

Extricating herself from the group of neurosurgeons from St. James and idly wondering if three o’clock in the afternoon is too early to track down a glass of shiraz, a flash of movement catches her eye, an echo of familiarity skittering up her spine. She turns and scans the crowd, puzzled.

Serena freezes, the sounds of the crowd seemingly falling away as she stares in shock. 

_Eight years_ , her mind supplies through the fog that descends over it. Eight years since she last saw Bernie Wolfe; sitting on a hallway floor, smiling with tear filled eyes as she watched Serena walk away to meet her great niece. 

And out of the blue, here she stands. Still long and lean, effortlessly beautiful. Her tousled blonde hair is longer now, pulled back in a soft twist and threaded through with white. She’s speaking animatedly to a colleague, gesturing with one hand, the other shoved deep in the pocket of her slim black trousers.

For just a moment the years fall away as a flurry of memories crowd Serena’s mind. How many times had she watched Bernie across AAU just like this, arguing about something or other with Fletch, talking through a procedure with Morven? How many afternoons had she spent sat at her kitchen table, cup of tea in hand as she watched Bernie explain the finer points of military structure to an avidly interested Jason. 

The room suddenly feels like it has too little air, the memories crowding thick and relentless around her. Rarely does Serena not know exactly what to do, but in this moment she’s frozen in indecision, torn between the desire to see Bernie and the urge to disappear back into the crowd before she’s noticed. It takes a moment before she realizes she’s gravitated towards Bernie and is now standing only a few steps behind her, her body having unconsciously made the decision for her.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she steels herself before extending her hand. “Serena Campbell, have we met?”

Bernie spins in place, eyes wide in shock, mouth open slightly. This close Serena can see the clusters of fine lines around Bernie’s eyes, her cheekbones still sharp above the deepened creases around her thin mouth. She looks older, of course she does, but she’s still so beautiful Serena can feel her chest tighten. A panicked thought of how she must look to Bernie flutters through her mind and it takes all of her will power not to bring her hand up to fiddle with her hair, now far more grey than dark.

Slowly Bernie reaches out, her hand cool and strong against Serena’s palm. A bolt of electricity seems to shock up Serena’s arm at the contact, the sense of deja vu almost overwhelming as they stare silently at one another.

A young man pushes his way through the crowd with a word of apology, jostling Bernie and breaking the trance around them. “Serena, I...it, it’s good to see you.” Bernie ducks her head and glances up through the wisps of her fringe and the motion is so heartbreakingly familiar Serena is afraid she might weep.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Serena replies, hoping Bernie doesn’t notice the slight tremor in her voice. “I thought you were still training in Pakistan?” She’s kept track of Bernie’s career over the years, even if they haven’t spoken, knows that she left Nairobi about five years ago and re-enlisted in a training post in the RAMC.

“I finished my commission, actually. Retired, if you can believe it.” She gives one of those lopsided grins that make Serena’s stomach flip. “I’m in town to visit Cam and Charlotte and the grandkids until I figure out what to do next. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to revive some old connections.”

Bernie’s dark eyes bore into her and suddenly Serena finds the room stifling. “Would you like to go somewhere quieter?” she blurts out before she can think better of it. “I mean, just, it would be nice to catch up. With you. There’s a coffee shop across the road, if you’d like?” She can feel the flush of embarrassment pinking her cheeks. Bernie just smiles, dropping her head to one side.

“I’d like that.”

…

The coffee shop is trendier than Serena would normally choose, but thankfully quiet. Places like this make her feel old more often than not, with their increasingly elaborate menus and baristas barely out of high school. She orders her usual black, no sugar, raising an eyebrow when Bernie orders a caramel macchiato. Bernie just shrugs with an embarrassed grin and follows her to a secluded table in the corner, steaming beverages in hand.

An awkward silence descends over the table as they each fiddle with their recycled paper coffee cups, eyes darting around the impeccably decorated interior. Serena takes a sip to steady her nerves, wincing as the too hot liquid scalds her tongue, mind racing to find something to say.

“So, retired? I’ll admit I’m surprised. I thought you were in for life this time,” she teases, glad when Bernie smiles in response. “What are your plans, then, Major?”

“It’s Colonel, actually. Or it was.” Bernie sips her concoction and Serena is momentarily entranced by a fleck of whipped cream that clings to her top lip. “Not sure, to be honest. I’d like to do _something_. Never was much for sitting around.”

“Don’t I know it.” It slips out before Serena can stop herself, hanging between them in the quiet room. Then Bernie laughs, that same ridiculous honk, and just like that the awkwardness dissipates.

Suddenly it’s as if no time at all has passed, as if they are sitting together at Pulses during a slow shift, or hiding out on the bench in the ambulance bay. 

“How are Cam and Morven?” Serena asks. “I haven’t heard from her in a few months.” Bernie’s grin, wide and genuine, sets Serena’s heart flopping a bit in her chest.

“They’re well. Busy. Both still at Bart’s.” She tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear with a chuckle. “Anthony is a handful, smart as a whip. Probably _too_ smart for his own good. And Julia’s still firmly in her terrible twos.” At Serena’s request, Bernie pulls out her phone, flipping through for a recent picture of the young family, every inch the besotted grandmother.

“And Charlotte?” 

“Finally done with law school and out to the change the world,” Bernie says, practically beaming with pride. Happiness floods Serena at Bernie’s obvious contentment, the strength of the relationships she’s reforged with her children, strong enough to push back some of the ache she feels. She catches herself just before she reaches out to squeeze Bernie’s hand on the table, curls her fingers more tightly around her cup instead until the impulse passes.

“How’s Jason?”

It’s Serena’s turn to be the proud auntie, filling Bernie in on her nephew’s achievements at Holby, showing her pictures of a lanky Guinevere, already tall for her age, looking serious in her school uniform on the first day of Year 4. 

Serena loves her little family, loves them fiercely and with all of her heart, could never regret the choice to be with them. But there’s a world of feeling in the spaces between the words, a sense of absence that colors everything, her losses still just as keenly felt, if not as unbearable. She’s learned how to live without Elinor, without Bernie, but those vacant spaces still exist in her heart, sealed off rooms that have long gone unentered.

The conversation inevitably turns to work and they swap stories of memorable procedures and the idiosyncrasies of hospital life in any form. Bernie’s young trainees in Pakistan aren’t so different from the registrars under Serena’s watch, and they laugh themselves to tears over tales of interrupted fumbles in supply cupboards and a prank involving a Jeep and a goat that Serena’s not convinced could possibly be true.

Hours pass, their cups long since empty, and it’s only the grumbling of her stomach that makes Serena’s realize the sun has set. She glances at her watch, stomach sinking, and tries to come up with a way to keep this day from ending. 

“Would you, ah, maybe like to get some dinner?” Bernie asks, beating her to the punch, eyes squinting in a soft, hesitant smile that Serena thought she would never see again and she has to tamp down the fierce joy that rushes through her.

“I’d love to.”

…

By the time she’s halfway through her second glass of shiraz, Serena wonders if she’s actually travelled back in time. 

The restaurant they happen upon is a dimly lit Italian with a truly impressive wine list, and the sense of deja vu is so strong Serena has a hard time keeping her mind on the present. All she knows is that Bernie is sitting across from her, painfully beautiful in the flickering light cast by the candle in the center of the table, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, and it takes every scrap of strength Serena possesses to keep from leaning across the table and kissing her.

Serena’s will may hold, but her mind is weak, and she can’t help but imagine it in the kind of crystal clear detail that she hasn’t allowed herself to think of Bernie with in years. Her fingers twitch at the sense memory of the soft skin of Bernie’s cheek, the slip and tangle of golden strands of hair between them. Vivid pictures flood her mind’s eye of Bernie’s eyes fluttering shut at her touch, long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, lips parted in a silent gasp. She sips her wine, imagining the rich taste lingering on Bernie’s tongue, warm and soft against her own, then stronger, more insistent as the kiss deepens. Retreating just slightly to tug Bernie’s bottom lip between her teeth, until Bernie whimpers low and hot against her mouth. 

“ _Serena…_ ”

“Serena?” 

Reality comes crashing back, Bernie’s voice breaking Serena from her reverie. It’s clear from Bernie’s quizzical expression that this wasn’t her first attempt to get Serena’s attention.

“Sorry. It, ah, it’s been a long day.” Serena fumbles desperately for calm, to banish any indication of just where her mind had wandered. She can feel heat flushing her face and neck, attempts to hide it by taking a long draught of her wine. 

“I understand.” Something shifts in Bernie’s eyes even as she smiles, a sense resignation that’s an eerie echo of the last time Serena saw her. “I’ll just get the check…” She cranes her neck, starts to lift her hand to flag down their waiter.

“No, wait!” Before her mind can stop her, Serena’s hand shoots out across the tabletop, covers Bernie’s, and she almost gasps at the touch, at the shock of sensation that shoots up her arm. Bernie’s eyes meet hers, the resignation replaced with uncertainty, wide and dark in a way that makes Serena’s heart pound. “Please, I- not yet.” Serena bites the inside of her cheek hard to hold back the words she’s been repeating in her mind for eight long years. _Please don’t go. Please come back to me. Please still love me._

Bernie’s jaw tenses, the shadow of her throat bobbing in the candlelight. After a long moment she nods slightly, taking her hand back as she settles again in her chair, and Serena’s feels the loss of contact keenly.

A third bottle of wine is procured and mostly consumed as they work to regain their earlier ease. Serena forces her feelings back under lock and key, resolves to take advantage of this chance to reconnect with her friend and not drive Bernie away by asking too much.

Bernie glances at her watch, squinting a little in the dim light. “It’s getting late. Do, um, do you have somewhere to be? Someone to get home to?” Her tone is a study in forced casualness that doesn’t fool Serena for a moment. She thinks she might’ve laughed, if the question hadn’t made her mouth go sandpaper dry. 

Swallowing hard, she forces herself to meet Bernie’s gaze, shuttered and unreadable. “No. There’s no one.” Serena can see the wave of relief that goes through Bernie, her posture slumping slightly even as she keeps her expression carefully neutral. “And you?” Serena forces herself to ask, torn between the need to know and her nauseating fear of the answer. Bernie shakes her head and the relief is so sudden and overwhelming Serena feels little giddy.

Their gazes catch and hold for a beat too long, everything that’s unsaid swirling between them.

Bernie breaks first, eyes dropping to where her fingers grip the stem of her wine glass. “I should probably head back to the hotel, though. I don’t want to be hungover for the first day of the conference just because _someone_ is a bad influence.” She glances up shyly through her fringe, lips in a teasing moue and Serena huffs out a laugh, the tension between them easing.

The night is pleasantly crisp after the warm interior of the restaurant and they walk in silence, close enough that their arms could brush with the slightest movement. Serena’s thoughts wander to similar walks through the halls of Holby, memories of warm laughter and gradually lessening personal space. 

They each hesitate as they approach the conference hotel, lingering just outside of the pool of warm light spilling from the doors, their easily rekindled comfort disappearing as the night draws to a close.

Bernie turns to face her, breath coming out in little puffs of mist in the cool evening air. “Thank you for tonight. I...it meant a lot.” 

“For me as well.” Serena feels a bubble of panic rise in her chest. It’s suddenly as if the time has passed too quickly, as if she hasn’t said enough. The evening may have been like old times, but this is the point at which they part and Serena doesn’t know if she can survive walking away from Bernie again. She takes a hesitant half step forward, arms held out slightly at her sides. “Bernie, I- it’s just… Can we…?”

Closing the remainder of the distance, Bernie reaches for her, their arms tangling awkwardly for a moment before pulling each other into a loose embrace. It’s all Serena can do to stop herself burying her face in Bernie’s chest. The wool of her coat smells faintly of coffee, of tobacco, of _Bernie,_ and the wave of longing that washes over Serena in that moment makes her knees weak.

Before she can pull away, run to the safety of her hotel room and try to make sense of it all at the bottom of a bottle of wine, Bernie’s arms tighten around her, pulling their bodies flush and leaving Serena breathless. She buries her face against the side of Serena’s neck, breath hot and damp against her skin.

“I missed you,” she whispers harshly, voice rough and intense. “I missed you every day, Serena. _Always._ ”

A sob claws it’s way free from Serena’s chest, her arms wrapping tightly around Bernie’s back, tears streaming down her face. “I missed you, too, Bernie. I missed you so much.”

They cling to each other on the darkened sidewalk, great heaving sobs shuddering through them both. Years of longing, of uncertainty breaking through their carefully built reserve and overwhelming them.

Suddenly Bernie’s mouth is on hers, kissing Serena fiercely. Her tongue swipes along the seam of her mouth before plunging deep, tasting of wine and the salt of their tears. Serena moans helplessly into the kiss, hands buried in Bernie’s hair as they always have, nipping softly at her bottom lip before sealing their mouths together once more.

When they finally pull apart, they are both panting, foreheads resting together. “Sorry,” Bernie whispers between them and Serena can’t help but smile as she remembers another kiss on a sun-drenched morning, when everything between them was new.

There’s an understanding in their shared gaze, clear and unmistakable, an echo of the seamless way they used to work together. Walking into the hotel hand in hand, there’s no need for words. They stay in silence, the air between them fair crackling with energy, as they ride the elevator up to the top floor.

It’s only once they’re through the door of her hotel room that Serena hesitates, uncertainties clamoring to the surface of her consciousness. She lingers in the doorway, torn between what she so badly wants and the clawing fear of the inevitable pain that will follow.

And then Bernie is there; so close, so _real_. She crowds Serena back against the door, lightly grasping her wrists and pinning them to the cool wood above her head. Serena’s breath thunders between them as Bernie nuzzles softly against the underside of her jaw, ragged and uneven. 

Bernie pauses, a question in her eyes. 

Serena knows she can walk away from this right now, just as surely as she knows she won’t. She _can’t_. The fear of hurt, of regret, is meaningless in the face of getting back what she’s been dreaming of for almost a decade. 

She nods, a barely there movement, and Bernie’s eyes flare hot. Their mouths crash together, hard enough that Serena’s head thuds back against the door, but she hardly notices, can only whimper as Bernie’s tongue slides into her mouth, sure and sensual. 

Serena’s hands ball into fists, straining helplessly against Bernie’s implacable grip. Already she feels like her whole body is on the verge of combustion, balanced on a knife’s edge between her desperate ache for Bernie’s touch and the overwhelming need to touch her in return. 

“Please,” Serena gasps against Bernie’s mouth, hardly sure she knows herself what she’s asking for. 

As always, Bernie understands, her hands releasing Serena’s wrists, dropping to grip the curve of her hips, tugging her to walk across the room even as she laves Serena’s neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Free of restraint, Serena threads her fingers into Bernie’s hair, tugging at the clip and hairpins until it spills over her hands like a curtain of silk.

A trail of clothing is shed behind them as they make their way to the bed, both of them naked by the time they fall back against the mattress in a tangle of limbs. Somehow Serena ends up on top, thighs bracketing Bernie’s narrow hips as she sits back on her heels, looking down at the woman beneath her.

The years have been kind to Bernie; Serena supposes the rigors of army life have done much to counteract the effects of time. She’s still rangy, all long limbs and lean muscle, pale skin dotted here and there with moles and freckles, and Serena smiles as she thinks of the hours she’s spent cataloguing each of them with her hands and mouth. Her eyes flit to the familiar, faded scars, almost silver in the moonlight spilling across the bed, feels her heart squeeze painfully at the sight of a few she doesn’t recognize. 

Regardless, it’s still Bernie. _Her_ Bernie, like a vision manifested from her memory into reality. 

Self consciousness pricks unexpectedly at the back of Serena’s mind. She knows the years have changed her, her body a little more careworn, and she’s suddenly filled with an uncharacteristic worry.

“Serena,” Bernie whispers, looking up with shining, fathomless eyes, the reverence in her voice washing over Serena, carrying away her concerns and pooling liquid heat between her thighs, and she leans down with a smile, catching Bernie’s mouth in a tender kiss.

Making love to Bernie is like coming home, and all the the locked doors in Serena’s heart burst open in a riot of feeling as they touch and taste and relearn one another. There have been others over the years, a handful of men and women. Pleasant distractions, mostly, nothing she would consider a relationship, but still enjoyable. Satisfying. Passionate, even. But nothing compares to this, the wordless understanding that exists between them. Their bodies still fit together like they were made for one another, a sense of rightness that Serena hadn’t realized she was missing.

Soft gasps and moans filter through the silence of the hotel room, unintelligible pleas and promises. Tears fill Serena’s eyes when Bernie arches up beneath her with a cry, silken heat pulsing around her fingers, achingly beautiful in her pleasure. They finally spill over when Serena falls apart, rolling silently down her cheeks as she shudders against Bernie’s mouth pressed between her thighs. 

Bernie slides back up the bed, gathering Serena into her arms, thumbs gentle as they brush the tears from her cheeks, and Serena can only cling to her, trembling with the aftershocks her pleasure and the force of her riotous emotions. 

Eventually Serena’s breathing slows to match Bernie’s as they lay tangled, skin warm and slightly sticky where they’re pressed together. She traces her fingers lightly over Bernie’s scars - the curving horizontal mark from Charlotte’s birth, the ragged slash along her sternum, the almost invisible line on her neck - as Bernie’s hand rubs soothing circles against her spine. 

“I looked for you that night,” Serena says, little more than a whisper against Bernie’s clavicle. She knows Bernie heard, feels her body suddenly tense. “After I left the hospital, I realized what a fool I’d been. Your phone was off, so I called every hotel in Holby, trying to find where you were staying.” She remembers how frantic she’d been, hope slipping further and further away with each call. How she’d fallen into a fitful sleep on her sofa, tears staining her face and the phone clutched in her hand.

“Why didn’t you get in touch after?” Serena can hear the edge of bewildered pain in Bernie’s voice and she has to swallow the answering anger that echoes in her chest.

“You left.” The words come out harsher than Serena intends, but she can’t stop now that she’s started. She lifts her head to meet Bernie’s eyes, sees her flinch. “You just _left_. You disappeared without a word and it was Kiev all over again.” It’s a low blow and Bernie’s eyes harden immediately. She pushes away, moving to sit with her back against the headboard and Serena mirrors her position, wrapping the bed sheet around her like armor.

“You told me to,” Bernie retorts hotly. “You were the one who said it wasn’t going to work.”

“I did. And I was wrong.” Serena’s hand clenches in the sheet knotted over her breasts, seeking something to ground her. “But you didn’t even _argue_. And when you disappeared, I- I thought you had finally decided that it was all too much.” Grief and pain lace each word, leaching out of her like infection from a wound. “I decided the best thing I could do would be to stay away, to let you be happy without me.”

“ _Happy?_ ” Bernie scoffs bitterly. “Serena, you’re the only thing that’s ever made me truly happy. I left because I would’ve done anything for you. I couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ make you choose between me and your family. You deserved better than that and if that meant walking away, then so be it.”

Each word is a physical pain, like a blow to the diaphragm, and all the fight goes out of Serena, leaving her drained and so very sad. For eight years she’s wondered why Bernie left, if she regrets it as much as Serena does. The knowledge that she does, that this all could’ve been avoided, sits like a stone in her gut. She sees her own regret reflected in Bernie’s dark eyes, can’t help but laugh as tears fill her eyes anew.

“God, what a pair of fools we are.” Dashing away the tears that cling to her lashes, Serena tries to pull together the tatters of her heart. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Unexpectedly, Bernie reaches out. Serena meets her halfway, their fingers winding together atop the rumpled bed.

“I’m sorry, too.” Something flickers in Bernie’s eyes, a cautious hope that kindles an answering spark in Serena’s chest. “Maybe...maybe we could start again from here?”

The spark bursts into a flame and Serena feels truly warm for the first time in years. She shifts forward on her knees, lifting a hand to Bernie’s cheek, heart stuttering a little as she nuzzles against her palm.

“Maybe we can,” Serena husks, leaning in to kiss the brilliant smile from Bernie’s mouth.


End file.
